Hopeless But Hoping
by neverrsaygoodbye
Summary: He left, and now he sleeps in the same bed as the man who could never love him like Harry does. And well- isn't that something? Draco/Harry
1. Chapter 1

The glass shook on the counter and the perspiration along the wood clung to Harry's sweater where it was laid out, hand circled around the glass of brandy. He looked down into it and watched the ice float counter clockwise, slowly, until he heard the sound of knuckles against hardwood in the foyer. His eye caught sight of the clock hanging on the wall,

'Fashionably late, as usual.' He unlocked the door with a flick of his wand and stood back as he took in the sight of a blond man on his front step. He was dressed in a winter grey suit, head held high and hair falling impeccably. Harry shuffled and stuck his hands in the pockets of his muggle jeans – which he forgot to change, Draco doesn't fancy them all that much – and Draco arched a light brow and drawls,

'About to let me in, Potter?'

Mentally shaking himself, 'Yea, I was just – yea.' He shoves himself aside and down the hall, running his hand through his hair and hoping his reddening neck isn't visible. The front door clicks shut and Draco's shoes snap against the hardwood.

'Tea?' He pauses, eyeing the place and mumbles out a, 'Please.' The room's tension is stifling but he'll ignore the elephant in the room for the time being. Flicking his wand, the water is boiling once again. Harry's wand rolls across the table once he sets it down.

Throwing in a tea bag, Draco's voice sounds near, but somehow entirely far when he says,

'It's different, in here. You changed the – curtains, and the frames are gone...' He's not ready for this, he thinks. But anytime is a bad time when this is the last time. He's not sure what to say, so he shrugs noncommittally and turns around, cuppas in hand and he puts one down on the table in the vicinity he's standing, not being able to stomach the thought of brushing fingers.

'I imagine you want the others back? They're in the lot that's in the living room.'

Draco opens his mouth, but it seems he has nothing to say, so he gives a curt nod and his face, pointed features unbearably masked and Harry blames himself. He's tried to ignore the nagging thought that never rests, always in the back of his mind. It's different but the same to see Draco here again; he wants to say it's right, but he isn't sure about anything anymore except his lack of sleep. Draco moves down the hall and he disappears through the archway leading to the living room, leaving Harry to watch after him, cup in hand and Draco still smells the same. Cologne barely there, but the smell of Early Grey and chocolate mints sifting through the air.

He was stupid for thinking he could pretend it doesn't hurt anymore; pretend he's over it. Draco doesn't miss him. He doesn't dream about him coming back, or have particularly hard nights where he'll imagine him in the arms of someone else.

It's been a long two months. Harry'll be glad when he doesn't have to see Draco's things lying about the house. He doesn't realize he's made his way to the living room until Draco turns around from casting weightlessness charms and he seems torn with himself.

Harry blurts out without thinking, 'Is anyone coming 'round to help you?' He realizes afterwards, when he's already cursing himself, how obviously jealous he sounds. He awaits Draco's response anyway and the blond just stands there for a moment, 'No, Potter, I'm sure I can levitate a few boxes myself. I won't need your Gryffindor willingness this time.' He nodded curtly, 'Okay. I'll just be in the other room. Shout if you need me.'

Walking away was both a relief and painful but somehow his hand made it around the handle to the study. The stuffy air hit his nose and he realized he hasn't been in the study since the night when he watched Kreacher float all of Draco's belongings into boxes. There's a pile of both new and old letters near the window, and Kreacher must have let the owls in; he hopes he treated them well.

He spends most of his time in the den that's hidden away at the far end of the house. Draco didn't like the decor, so he rarely spent time there.

_It's far too bright and dark at the same time, who could enjoy their time while surrounded by _argyle_... honestly... _He'd sniff and walk right out again.

Harry sleeps mostly on the couch in the corner, next to the various sketches by Sirius, when he was a boy. The bedroom had far too much nostalgia and he found he couldn't sleep in the black sheets anymore.

_The way his skin would shine against the dark colour, eyelids fluttering closed with each panting breath._

Harry shakes himself and moves out of the study, instead moving through the kitchen and over into the den. Sitting down in the armchair across from the stained glass, he tilts his cup and watches the liquid rush to the sides.

'I'd hoped that with the curtains gone, you'd have some sense to redecorate here, as-well. No such luck. You never were quite up for the change.' And Draco was standing there, on the threshold, his voice controlled and like ice while Harry choked back the pain that twinged in his chest.

'No, you..,' he shakes his head with vigour, '_you're_ the one who left. You can't say such things when you _left._' And it was out, his throat constricting and Draco took a few steps in, making it even harder to breathe.

'You made it quite clear you didn't want me anymore,' and Draco's mask finally broke, the hurt in his voice betraying the broken look in his eyes, 'it's quite alright, we did have an agreement after all.'

It seemed so long ago now that Harry had forgotten the reason Draco had come to stay. He was supposed to _stay. _It was about a year after the war. Harry was living alone in Grimmauld Place and he was just starting to make something of his store; every once and awhile working with Ron and George over at Weasley's. Draco came stumbling into the store in search of lotus antennae. Harry knew he worked at an Apothecary down the lane in Hogsmeade, but when Draco's eyes were purple with lack of sleep and he admitted to having picked up extra shifts to make his rent more reasonable to pay, Hermione, whom was visiting for the day and whom had also come much closer with Draco after their 8th year at Hogwarts, claimed Harry had various rooms at Grimmauld Place up for rent.

After the war, with both Lucius and Narcissa in Azkaban, Draco was left to his own advances and frankly wanted nothing to do with the Malfoy fortune. He tried to make it on his own, and Harry couldn't refuse after Hermione's explanation and insistence that he had changed. That he wasn't the boy who made all the wrong choices; not anymore. Harry still believes she was up to something, but she claimed she was worried about him; holed up in an empty house, alone.

He said Draco could stay until he had his feet on the ground, and that time passed long ago. He didn't think too much of it after he got to know Draco, personally this time. He realized how brave the blond man was. How Harry was not the only one that sacrificed so much during the war, and after months of stormy grey eyes and snapping remarks with no spite, he fell. Much harder than he ever had in his 19 years of fighting. But Harry never told him that the way Draco's golden hair falls over his pointy features sets his chest on fire.

What did Harry have to offer him? Surely he won't swoon over _The Boy Who Lived_. He was always different. Eventually Harry spent long days and most nights at the store, not able to stand constantly being around the gorgeous ex-Slytherin and knowing he won't ever be his. Harry wasn't sure why, but when he came home one evening, Draco was nowhere to be found and there, on the table, was parchment littered with the proper scrawl that could only belong to a Malfoy.

That night, Harry drank himself into a stupor until he stumbled into bed and told himself it was for the best. Afterwards, though, he had nights where he swore if he just heard his voice he'd be able to let him go – or as he told himself – but he never answered any of his owls. He tried speaking to Hermione about him, but she would tut and claim he didn't want to speak to anyone at the time. Anyone, being Harry.

Harry was sick with the thought.

And here he was, two months since he's seen Draco, until now. He'd sent Harry an owl.

_Potter,_

_It seems most of my belongings are still in your care. If you're available, I'd like to collect them this Saturday morning. _

_Malfoy_

Now he's here, telling Harry he could have done something, so Draco wouldn't leave. That he hurt Draco, and caused the hurt in his voice.

'What are you saying, Draco? You were gone, just like that and you weren't responding to my owls, and Hermione-'

'Potter, you're rambling. Would you like to inform me of your sudden workload that takes up all of your time and your inability to have a conversation with me?' He was just standing there, in his winter robes that fell around his lithe frame and he was looking at Harry like he was incompetent, but held something very important to him, none the less.

'I've been.. busy, but you never told me you found a place-'

'I haven't. I've been staying with Blaise.' _Oh. _And wasn't that the icing on the cake? He left, and now he sleeps in the same bed as the man who could never love him like Harry does. And well- isn't that something?

'Oh. Well.. I hope he-he makes you happy.' Harry swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry and cracking. He pulls himself up, tucks his fingers in his pockets and looks the blond in the face. Draco's face is pale, colour almost drained from his features and his Malfoy mask up. Now that he's looking, he can see the slight purple under his eyes and the slouch of his shoulders.

'That's all you have to say? Potter, I knew you were oblivious, but not senseless.'


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

His arms are crossed, on the defence but suddenly Harry is so confused – since when is Draco back to insulting him, like the way he did before?

'And what's all this s'pposed to mean, yeah? I'm not gunna stand here and let you insult me in my own home, so get your things and go- go home to _him_, alright?' Harry knew he sounded bitter and jealous, but he was tired, both with the sleep curling around his eyelashes and his heart pounding too hard from Draco's confession and the emotion of the day still swift in the air.

'You don't- oh Merlin. Potter, I'm not with Blaise. I'm simply staying in his guest room for the duration of the time it takes me to knock some sense into _you. _Seems it's going to take longer than I anticipated.' And suddenly Harry's heart could breathe again, beating too fast in his ribcage and it was okay that Draco was insulting him, because he _missed_ him and everything that he used to do.

The way he dressed, always as if he was on a strict, formal schedule with important things to do, and important people to do them with. How the lines on his forehead would crease up when he pressed the buttons on the toaster, because, _Really Potter, do we have to use this wretched muggle technology?_. But most of all, he loved watching the stubborn blonde sit on the chair in the dining room, gazing out the windows that face the front and he could name all the memories and thoughts that flew across his face; he let that happen, right in this house where, 'Y_ou know I don't belong here, Harry, I really don't belong anywhere.' He looked up at Harry with eyes so full of hurt and loss that he curled his fingers into his shirt sleeve and tried not to cry. _

'Right.' He cleared his throat and pushed himself out of the chair, being careful to do it gracefully as to give Draco nothing to comment on. Making his way over to the casing of the doorway, he fit past Draco and flitted down the hall, intent on making himself another tea. Draping his fingers around the warm glass of the teapot, he faced the cupboards and closed his eyes. He was so close to bursting out, telling him not to leave him alone here, not again, not the way he did. But Draco didn't want to stay here with Harry. Harry's heart clenched hard in his chest at the thought that Draco couldn't possibly spend his life with Harry and be so utterly happy as the ex-Gryffindor was, just being in the blonde's presence.

_ 'Harry.'_ Was he following him around the house? He could be overwhelmed with the packing, but just too proud to admit to it, Harry thought to himself.

'Malfoy, the trunk next to the floo-'

'Harry, do you know why I've come?' He stood stock still as Harry turned around, pushing his glasses farther up on his nose as if it would help him understand Draco more clearly when the Slytherin looked at him without the mask, or the insulting defence, but with a look so nervous that his hands were shoved into his pockets, one swiftly coming to swipe his hair off his forehead in a habit that only living with Harry could induce. The emerald-eyed man couldn't find the reason for the sudden mood change, but he could only see the meaning that _Draco_ was nervous around _him_ and the feeling in his muscles just wouldn't let him give in and do whatever it took for the blonde to stop looking this way.

'Well with all this following nonsense, it seems not to get your things.' As soon as his tone fell away from his lips he regretted saying the words because across from him stood a man that was distressed and torn to pieces. His eyes were cast down to the old hardwood floor, his body rigid and curling in on itself. He was overcome with such guilt that he couldn't help but send a disguised plea toward the man in front of him to become the man he was before,

'Draco, why _is_ it you're here?'

And that was it; the question about the elephant in the room; the unmistakeable tension that stifles the boys' lungs because, all at once, that's all they really are in this very moment. They're just boys who are too small for the world, and too big for each other and they can't help but be afraid. Harry just wishes Draco wouldn't look at him with hurt maiming his features, but with amazement in his eyes, just the way he did when they arrived at the hospital for Hermione and Ron, Rose coming into the world. And when Draco held Rose for the very first time, that flash was what truly amazed Harry. How Draco commenting on how tiny she was; couldn't believe that the tiny, little life in his arms was the result of two people loving each other, was enough for Harry to be shocked into seeing Draco holding a child that was part him and part blonde Slytherin. He couldn't believe his own eyes.

Since then he needed the other man beside him, whether for the right or wrong reasons. And now he is realizing that Draco needs to know this; Draco needs to see what he could have with Harry; confidence rushes through his ears and he doesn't want it to be gone before he can get his side of the story out there.

_ 'Draco..'_ He mouth was trying to spill all these emotions out to him, but he couldn't make them flow how he wanted; it wasn't right, and all he could think about was _Draco_ and his stupid gorgeous hair and stupid pink lips that he'd just love to feel with his fingertips.

'Potter, I don't belong at Blaise's, but I feel more like I belong here. With _you._'

_Author's Note_

_Hello there. So this is the short Chapter Two- I've finally gotten it posted, and I'd really love some feedback. I'm not really the sort to do chaptered stories, as I usually have trouble with plot, but I'm really feeling this one! Another update will be coming soon, right when I figure out where I'm going, but I'd love to hear anything, anything at all from anyone! Thanks so much,_  
_neverrsaygoodbye._


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow Harry's breath left his lungs faster than the speed of light and if you asked him, he'd swear he imagined those words falling from Draco's lips. He's swear that this whole world he's wished himself into has just been a figment of his imagination and that one night he and Draco spent together was just the result of too much treacle tart and not enough sleep. Although Draco is still standing there in front of him with those grey irises pleading with him not to take the bait he just gave him. Harry knows that if Draco's father heard what he had just said to a _Potter _of all people.. he must be turning in his grave at this very moment. Malfoy's don't show emotion, most of all putting them on display and for the taking of any others, and the way they left his lips was so desperate and confused that Harry was sure he couldn't have meant it in the way that he so dearly wished he did. Wished it meant that he wanted to be in his arms just as he was that night it snowed for the first time this year; two months and a few odd weeks ago it was now, and Harry hid himself after ward to avoid the humiliation of Draco telling him the truth; it was all a mistake on his part, he never would have done it under normal circumstances. How he had put his hands in Harry's hair and wouldn't look him in the eye until he was so full of emotion Draco couldn't help but share it with him; share what their coupling was doing to them both, and maybe just a tiny bit of the passion that Harry had for Draco had snuck into that very look, right before it was all over and the sheets slipped against the ex-Slytherin's pallid shoulders, Harry over him and looking into those grey eyes that matched his winter robes he wore during the day. The ones that got frustrated with the ex-Gryffindor's annoying habits of buying muggle toothpaste, but he always used it whenever he was sick and couldn't muster up enough energy to cast a tooth-cleaning charm. Harry was sure that Draco had seen that fire in the brunette's gaze and he would realize what it meant; that that night had not just been a one-off in both of their eyes but something that would mean much more and not be easily forgotten.

Now all of these memories were coming back into Harry's conscious mind and he has a split second to make the decision to jump into the water head first, or watch the waves from afar but dare not touch. The laugh lines around his eyes and nose crinkled up as he tried to gather anything, any words that could possibly make this mean something that could make sense.

'Why did you leave, Draco?' The walls are glowing more as the sun reaches through the kitchen curtains and splashes against the yellowed wallpaper. The brunette's fingers twitch against each other and he shoves his right hand unceremoniously into his pants pocket, curling around a stray sickle that's been hidden there. He might not feel it, but he's determined to seem as confident and unattached as possible, straightening his back and cocking his hip slightly to appear casual. Of course this is lost on Draco, his eyebrow cocking and his hands coming together in front of him.

'I believe we've been through-'

'No, Draco, the real reason you left.' The blonde's expression was slightly scuffled for being interrupted, and then the mask slid into place as if he had finally realized how long it had been missing. He clears his throat,

'Well what did you expect me to do, Potter? Stay in this monstrosity of a house by myself, forever? You had started avoiding me like the plague at some point and it was just not on.' He falsely picked at his nails, head down and breaking the intense stare he had been having with Harry's t-shirt. The emerald-eyed man shuffled on his feet and threw caution to the wind before he said,

'After that night. Everything after that night was different, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- shouldn't have been the way I was, but I was afraid. I knew it was a mistake and-'

'A mistake?' Harry was cut off by a voice so small he was almost positive it couldn't have come from the man standing not two feet across the linoleum. Harry was so sure he looked to either side of him, expecting to see Kreacher, or anybody, really, that would explain the insecurity of the voice that flooded his ears and made his train of thought dissipate immediately. He finally came up with no other explanation and his head slowly turned to look at Draco, his face just being masked over but he had caught the look in his cheekbones; the one that made him feel ill and the cup of tea he drank sat low and unsteady in his stomach.

'I see. Well as I've heard enough, I'll be going. I'll send someone for the last of the trunks..' His voice carried with him as he quickly spun around and fled down the hall in a perfect imitation of Professor Snape, billowing capes hitting the door frame on his way out. Harry stood stock still for a moment before he willed his legs to burst forward, bounding down the hall to the front door where Draco was reaching out for the door handle, grip tight and veins showing green in his knuckles.

'Draco, wait- I, I didn't- just would you gimme a- Draco!' He stumbled over his words and his steps as-well, almost falling face first into the vase sitting beside a small mirror on the adjacent wall to where Draco was quickly grabbing his briefcase that Harry had not even known he had brought. The brunette just manages to stop himself from toppling over when Draco swiftly spins around, face tinged pink around his cheeks and his temper is rising.

'_Wait?! _What would you like me to wait for, Potter? Another chance for you to tell me how that night was such a _mistake, _such a horrible memory to you that you could no longer stand my company in your home? I'd rather not!' He huffed, his chest inhaling and exhaling rapidly. The blonde's eyes shifted back and forth between Harry's own and his t-shirt, wide in his head and it sent a spark down Harry's spine to see how hurt Draco really was, under all of that hard exterior. All of a sudden the words that he had been aching to tell Draco were inching up his throat and for once, he didn't fight them.

'I didn't want to mess it up- I didn't want to push it too far, but then you kissed me, and Draco I couldn't stand to let you go after seeing you every day and so I told myself that it would just be the once, and after that I couldn't stand knowing that you wouldn't see me the same, the same way that I see you. You wouldn't feel for me the same way I feel for you.'

Author's Note;  
Hello again.. it seems I'm terrible at trying to keep up a story once I've started it. I'm so, so, sorry for how long it's taken me to begin where I left off but I think I just may be keeping it up, almost at the good part! I know this is so short, it really pains me, but I'm one of those writers who is not exactly the greatest at plots and long-term stories so I'm hoping this will make it a big easier on me.  
Thank you for reading, it means the world!


End file.
